Firewhiskey With Boys
by adoorbellrings
Summary: The Marauders are up to no good. Specifically, the kind of no good that ends with Lily Evans and James Potter, tied up and drunk, with a time limit and a dare.


So, as it turned out, sneaking firewhiskey on the sly hadn't been such a bad idea after all. Lily, smiling widely at something Peter had said, reminded herself to thank Emmy later. Without all those girls-only weekend nights, there was no way she'd be still sitting here, knocking back another shot with Sirius _Black, _of all people.

And, of course, everyone who came with him.

Peter and Remus were fine, of course; just now, Remus was grinning at her, eyes shining somewhat drunkenly. Sirius clapped her on the back, and Peter giggled in that inane way of his.

"Never thought you had it in you," Sirius cried jovially. They were seated on the little rug in front of the fireplace in the boys' dorm, knees bumping knees, the second bottle of firewhiskey holding the place of honor in the middle of the circle. To Lily's left, the final member of their little party glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, a look that was altogether too sly for her liking. Ignoring him, the way she'd been ignoring him since Remus and Sirius had somehow convinced her to come up here in the first place, Lily licked her lips.

"Yeah, well, you don't really know me at all, do you, Black?" she asked, pretending her words weren't ever so slightly slurred.

"And that's the point!" Peter said, too loudly, his face splitting in a grin with a few too many teeth. Lily frowned as _that one_ elbowed Peter in the side. "Ouch," Peter gasped, smacking Potter in the back of the head.

"More drinks," Remus said, sounding calmer than he had any right to sound. "That's the answer."

"Hear, hear!" Lily agreed, lifting her glass and throwing herself off-balance. She swayed to one side, knocking into a warm, unmoving shoulder. For a moment, her reflexes slowed with alcohol, Lily found herself leaning rather wholly against James Potter's side, her left arm pressed quite firmly against his right. His school shirt was unbuttoned to reveal the white undershirt beneath, the sleeves rolled up to the elbow; she could feel the warmth of his skin through the thin, wrinkled fabric. His arm felt… kind of nice. Strong. She looked down, saw that his fingers were suddenly flexed against the floor, knuckles going white. Swallowing, Lily pushed herself upright. She could feel his eyes on her, just like she could always feel his eyes on her, but she refused to acknowledge a thing.

"Drink up, Lily-my-love," Sirius said. He was smiling that sloppy, charming smile that got so many of the sixth year girls into certain broom closets, but there was a knowing glint in his grey eyes that made Lily distinctly nervous. Suddenly, she couldn't quite remember why she was even here. Something about… bonding time? With her fellow Prefect? Something about how… how Sirius would hex Remus if he drank all the goods without them, and so…

Shaking her head, Lily opened her mouth to say something that may actually have been intelligent if Potter hadn't chosen that moment to shrug out of his overshirt and toss it onto the floor behind him. Her eyes, traitorous things that they were, caught on the movement and before Lily knew it, she was watching the firelight glance off Potter's bare, corded forearms. Her gaze stuttered away, startled, but that only led to the sight of the lean abdomen that was now oh-so-revealed, covered only by sleeveless white cotton. In the half-light, the outlines of his chest, his stomach, the long curve of his spine, were impossible to miss.

"More drinks is good," she mumbled, and allowed Sirius to refill her glass.

"How about a game?" Remus asked, eying Potter. "You promised me fun, Prongs."

"And while the striptease is nice and all," Peter added, "I'm getting bored."

"Shut up, Wormtail," Potter snapped, the words harsh but the humor easy and apparent. There they were, those odd nicknames the boys had for each other; later, Lily would ponder them more attentively. "All right, then. A game."

"What sort of game?" she asked, trying to pretend that she wasn't staring at the way his shoulders looked when he leaned back like that, legs stretched out behind Peter. It was harder to remember why exactly looking at him was bad, but she knew she didn't want _him_ to know, and that was almost enough to keep her eyes away.

"Truth or Dare is an old favorite," he replied, eyes half-shut as he watched her watch him.

"Really," Lily asked, a throatiness to her voice that was anything but intentional. As soon as she heard it, she coughed and looked at Remus, seated at her right.

"Oh, yes," he said, quite seriously. "How else would we know exactly what Jamesie looks like in an evening gown?"

Lily found herself laughing, couldn't tell how loud she was being, and decided that only more firewhiskey would solve the issue.

"So, Padfoot," Remus went on. "The question."

"Dare, of course," Sirius answered without hesitation. And, when told, he got up and spun in a series of would-be neat and frilly pirouettes that ended with him toppling face-first into one unmade bed.

"That was fun," Lily said, struggling to enunciate, "but I already knew Black was a ballerina."

Across the circle, Peter snorted into his shot glass. Lily was more interested in the chuckle from her left. When she heard it, an undeniable bloom of pride made her cheeks hot. Or maybe that was just the alcohol.

"My turn," Sirius announced, almost falling back into his seat directly across from Lily. He looked at each of them in turn, a wicked grin spreading across his otherwise handsome face. "James, my boy, do you truth or do you dare?"

Lily, rather intrigued by the answer to this question, turned to face Potter. She had given up all pretense of ignoring him, and _may _have been listing to the left. Just a bit. She could feel heat radiating out from him. So perhaps she was closer than she'd thought. But that was all right, wasn't it? That was just _fine._ It was just Potter, after all, just _James, _and… and… and he smelled good. And was speaking.

"I regret this already," he was saying, shaking his head with a rueful smile.

"But it's not even got anywhere," Peter protested, and Lily thought that perhaps she should be paying more attention to the space between the lines, because _something_ was going on, but who could concentrate on little things like intensely suspicious behavior when there were hands like _his _around? Lily, her eyes dropping to James' fingers, thought about touching them. Then, having come up with absolutely no reason why she shouldn't, she reached out and stroked one fingertip across his wrist. His eyes snapped to her face, wide and startled, and Lily did something she hadn't done on purpose in years.

She smiled at him.

"Dare," James breathed, not even looking at Sirius. He wasn't moving, wasn't touching her, but Lily didn't think she'd ever been more aware of another person.

_I am drunk_, she thought, with more clarity than she'd had since the fourth shot. Staring at James Potter's beautiful hazel eyes, Lily considered this. The part of her brain that was still clinging to sobriety, the part that was currently being trampled by her horrid raging hormones, had the strength to point out that she couldn't be blamed for what she did when she was drunk. It wasn't – _wouldn't be_ – her fault.

"I dare you, James Potter," Sirius was saying, and Lily glanced over at him. There was a new excitement racing through her veins, a sense of power; there were possibilities tonight. "To… to acquire Evans's bra." Her jaw dropped, the excitement now warring with shocked embarrassment, but Sirius wasn't finished. "With your teeth."

Amidst the cackling from Peter and the more subdued laughter from Remus, Lily's face flamed and James sat up.

"You're kidding," he muttered, and when Sirius's grin did not budge, he turned to her. "Are you… okay?"

_With you taking my bra off with your mouth? Merlin, yes!_

The thought only made Lily blush harder, but the half-drunk, half-wicked part of her was smirking. Still, there was a line. Somewhere. And she was pretty sure that this would mean crossing it. She looked at the others.

"Not in front of them, I'm not."

"Loo," Peter suggested, ever helpful.

"But we'll have to make sure he's really doing it," Sirius put in, musingly. "Hmm."

Remus pulled out his wand, and with an elegant flourish, Potter's hands snapped behind his back. He lost his balance, barely catching himself on his elbows before he crashed all the way to the floor.

"What – " he began, and then stopped. The look on his face was priceless in that moment, a perfect blend of murderous amusement. "Really?"

"Necessary," Remus replied, and dropped his wand. He scrambled for it, flushing, the minute of cool ruined.

"But not quite enough," Sirius drawled, and then Lily's own arms whipped behind her back. She yelped, feeling invisible bonds close around her wrists. James rolled his eyes as Sirius crowed in delight. "Now you'll have to use your teeth! Have fun, children." And they were ushered into the small bathroom, the door closing smartly behind them.

As soon as they were alone, the reality of what was happening hit Lily like a brick to the face. She was locked in a bathroom with James Potter, mostly sloshed, with her hands bound behind my back. And he was going to touch her. With his mouth. A lot.

"Um," she said.

"We don't have to," he said, sounding sheepishly slurred. "Bugger them; it doesn't matter."

"No," she countered, and tried to take a step towards him. She tripped on the bath mat, going to her knees. James knelt too, but Lily was giggling. "No, it's okay. I'm fine."

"Are you… are you sure?"

"It's just a dare, James," she said, not noticing the way his eyes darkened when he heard his name on her lips. She shrugged, tossing her hair, and lied like she was born to it. "It doesn't mean anything; I'd as soon have any of them do it."

He sighed, something flickering behind his small, lopsided smile.

"Right, then."

James turned his body, sitting properly now, and used his feet to shove himself over to sit by her.

"Lean over," he said, voice a tad bit hoarse. Slowly, her breath catching in her throat, Lily bent down over her knees. James leaned down, and a moment later the hem of her shirt was caught between his teeth. She could feel his breath puff against the skin of her lower back, and Lily didn't care who saw her shudder.

She lifted her bound arms as much as she could as he used his head to tug her shirt up her back, which ended up with her arms looped around his neck, holding his head close against her.

"Sorry," she said, laughing a little. This was a mistake, as it made James laugh too. The sound rolled against her skin, quiet and low and way more sexy than she knew possible, and suddenly Lily was aware of nothing but the fact that her shirt was hiked up to her bra now and James Potter was smiling against her spine.

"All right, I'm going in. Wish me luck," he murmured, and then his teeth scraped against her and he began working at the clasp of her bra, and Lily thanked every god she knew that she hadn't worn a sports bra.

It seemed like forever before she felt the release, the sides of the bra falling a bit apart. James let out another raspy chuckle, and Lily realized that she had never wanted to touch anyone as much as she wanted to touch him.

"Come on," she said instead, her voice hurried, but breathless. She twisted her head to look over her shoulder, straining her neck to see his hazel eyes glinting back at her.

Whatever she'd been about to say, Lily forgot it.

Slowly, he lowered his head back to her shoulder blades, and unless she was very much mistaken, pressed a brief, hot kiss to the dip of her spine. Lily took a sharp breath, turning her head back to stare at her knees as James smoothly went on to tug at one bra strap until it slid off her shoulder, lost beneath her shirt. He did the same with the other strap, so neatly that Lily wondered if he'd kissed her after all. It was beginning to seem blurry, the memory; it had happened (if it had happened) only moments ago, but she was already having trouble placing it.

"This'll have to do," he said, each word falling across her skin like water just hot enough to burn. "With your arms like that, can't get it any further."

"Oh," Lily said, and, with some difficulty, turned around. "Okay." They were facing each other now, James kneeling, Lily with her legs splayed awkwardly to fit. He was, in fact, _between _her legs, though of course this situation was completely… innocent…

"Lily," James said, her name like a brand, whipping at her self-control.

"I'm drunk," she said, as if that would change what was happening all around her, as if that would make his eyes less fathomless, less inescapable.

"We all are, a bit." He wasn't moving. Neither of them were. Her bra hung around her shoulders; she itched to take it off completely.

"I feel sort of funny, James," she confided, because _Merlin,_ he was good to be with, around, near. She _felt_ him. His mouth curved, one corner going up.

"Oh?"

"I feel like…" Lily leaned forward, needing to tell this secret, everything hazy, his lips remembered like ghosts against her skin. When she was practically in his lap, her hair tumbling across her face, she laughed. "I feel like I can't get… close. Enough."

"What?" James swallowed; he looked distinctly nervous now, and Lily delighted in it.

"To you," she finished, a whisper, hoarse as he had been.

"Lily," he said again, dragging out the syllables, and suddenly tipped his head back as if in prayer. "Bloody hell. This isn't fair."

"You're right," she agreed, riding on a wave, recklessly casting aside the last hint of wariness. It was Friday night, she was drunk, he was – he was _James._ "Here."

And Lily moved her head just as James moved his, her body tipping forward, unable to balance with her hands behind her, and kissed him.

They landed shoved up against the bathroom door, James' arms crumpled behind him, Lily straddling his hips. For a moment, they stared at each other.

Then,

"Don't kill me later, all right?" he asked, words coming fast enough to trip him up.

"Fine," she agreed, not wasting a beat or a breath, and then his mouth was on hers and god, god, it was _fire_.

Everything was sweet urgency, was his tongue in her mouth, her teeth on his lip, a noise swallowed in another kiss that wouldn't be enough unless they never, ever stopped.

Eventually, there was a banging on the door. James broke the kiss with a wince as his arms, still trapped behind him with most of his weight and hers pinning them down, twinged.

"Oi," someone called. Sirius. "If you're not out in one minute, I'm coming in there for your own good!"

"Bloody Padfoot," James muttered. Lily just focused on breathing. He looked up at her, a grin tugging relentlessly at his lips. "I guess we'd better go out there, then; wouldn't want Sirius to rescue my virtue…"

She laughed, completely without a rejoinder, but it seemed to be enough for him that she was actually, genuinely laughing.

Lily rolled off of James, and managed to scoot up the wall to her feet. James followed her example, wriggling his way up; their eyes met halfway to standing and Lily let out a snort that would rival one of Peter's.

Once on her feet, she found that things weren't quite so dizzy, for which she was grateful. She didn't fancy walking when she couldn't tell which way was forward.

Awkwardly, James turned his back to the door and fumbled at the knob until it opened. They stumbled out into the dorm room, Lily's shirt still raised a good three inches above where the hem was meant to fall, and were met with three identical smirks.

"Stuff it, you berks," James said. Lily glanced at him, her cheeks warming; he still wore that helpless, stupidly adorable grin.

"So?" Remus asked, because _someone_ had to. "How did it, erm, go?"

"It went," Lily replied primly, and managed to stumble past the three of them without falling. Remus flicked his wand and the bonds vanished; Lily swung her arms out in front of her with a sigh of relief.

"So, who's up for round two?" Sirius asked, clapping his hands together.

"_I_," Lily said, shrugging her shirt back down, but not bothering to attempt to fix her bra in this state, "am going to bed. You boys have fun."

She ignored their protests, her eyes finding James instead. He was watching her, a hint of worry in those clear hazel eyes.

"And _you_," she told him, attempting to draw herself up to her full height, but only managing to take a wavering step backwards until she could brace herself against their door, "had best get a good night's breast. Rest! Rest!" Lily couldn't help but laugh at her own slip; the quirking grin brightening James's face was too contagious. "Because tomorrow," she continued loudly, over the guffaws of his friends, "pre – presuming I can move properly again, you are taking me to Hogsmeade."

With that, Lily turned, almost ran smack into the dorm door, made it out, and pulled it imperiously closed behind her.

As she half-walked, half-felt her way along the wall towards her own dorm, Lily couldn't stop the smile that threatened to give her face cramps. The last thing she'd seen before slamming the door shut had been James Potter, irritating, beautiful James Potter, looking at her like she was the only thing in the world.


End file.
